


The work of your hands

by Anonymous



Series: Sins of the mind [2]
Category: Les Misérables (Movie 1952)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valjean and Robert talk about things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The work of your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Weird little coda/bonus scene to Sins of the Mind that started out as kink negotiation fic and turned into... relationship negotiation fic? Either way, I appreciate that this is a very self-indulgent thing to have written. But I quite liked writing it.
> 
> No real warnings other than that I don't think Valjean's attitude is an example of how to conduct your personal or sexual relationships. But probably you already knew that.

"Do you know," Robert said, setting a tray on the table between them and taking a seat in the armchair facing Valjean's. "I believe I'm a terrible influence."

Valjean looked up from his book. "Of course you are. I've been telling you so for years." He folded the book and set it neatly in his lap. "What's brought this on?"

Robert's breath came in a rumbling huff of air. He reached forward to stir two teaspoons of sugar into Valjean's tea. Valjean's lip twitched, but he accepted the cup, bracing himself for the bad news that usually accompanied an extra spoonful of sugar. "What do you think might bring on a fit of remorse?" Robert said. "Or rather: whom do you think?"

"Ah." Valjean took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and sweet enough to conceal the bitter undertones. The news was certainly bad, then.

"Ah indeed."

Valjean sat back in the chair and fixed Robert with an appraising stare. "Well, I consider you an excellent influence. I've found your judgement to be impeccable on all matters - and you're a damn sight more sensible than anyone else in this house." 

Robert dipped his head with a small dismissive gesture, and it was so rare to see Robert even mildly embarrassed that Valjean could not help but smile at the sight. But he did not relent. "You can't deny that you've more sense than the rest of us put together?"

Robert laughed, a short choked sound. "How can I? I spend half of my days telling you as much."

"Well then, how bad can it be. What sort of terrible advice have you given Javert?"

Robert resettled himself in his chair and seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts before fixing his gaze on Valjean.

"Not advice, exactly. But terrible all the same." He studied Valjean, as though trying to make a decision. "The other day. You may remember that made I said some suggestions in the heat of the moment."

Ah. Valjean sat up a little straighter, painfully aware of the way his breath quickened at the though of that afternoon. It had gone unmentioned in his presence for three days, and he had already begun the reluctant process of tidying the memories away, grateful and fretful all at once.

Yes, it went unmentioned, but it was certainly not forgotten. Javert was more watchful than ever - but silent along with it. His eyes still tracked Valjean across the room, but now what little pretence that had been between them was gone, and the hunger in Javert's expression was undeniable. And yet it went no further. When Valjean laid a friendly hand on Javert's shoulder, the body beneath his palm went stiff. The first time it happened Javert had pulled away entirely. The second time, with what seemed to be a great struggle, he had forced himself to quietly accept the touch. Valjean had not made a third attempt. 

The idea had crossed his mind - earlier that morning, in fact - that Javert must have come to believe that what had passed between them was, somehow, the price of remaining in the house. Or, worse, that Valjean's friendship could only be bought at the cost of a warm touch. The thought was distressing, but compelling. Who knew what Javert could have concluded from that day's performance? And who was Valjean to know what sort of promises or demands he might have made? His memories of the afternoon were an overwhelmed blur. His fingers tightened on the book in his lap.

"Of course. He feels obliged to us." He forced himself to speak it, and was surprised to find it easier to say than he would have expected. The words had sat for days on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be given voice. He tightened his lips to stop the rest from spilling out. Robert, he knew, would be all-too-willing to reassure and comfort him, and he did not deserve comfort in this. 

Instead, he said: "I will speak to him. I can let him know that those things you said were- only for the moment. There's no need for him to-"

He was interrupted by Robert's hand catching his and squeezing, and he closed his eyes, grateful for the firmness of the grip. Had he ever believed he needed more than this? Well, he thought, feeling the strength of Robert's hand in his own, enough of that. 

"I asked too much of you," he admitted. "It was good of you to suffer this for me."

"There'll be plenty more for me to suffer yet," Robert said - and when Valjean opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of something wistful in Robert's expression. It lasted less than an instant, was quickly schooled into something warm and confiding, but Valjean caught it and felt a familiar guilty pang and a familiar accompanying thrill, that only deepened when Robert continued: "The images I've planted in Javert's head were downright wicked, it seems."

That gave him pause. "Wicked?"

"Wicked. Villainous, even. The man's imagination's been running riot. I've half a mind to forbid him from going ahead with his plans."

The sensation was hard to describe - an aching within him that yawned open with possibilities and shivered with danger. He watched Robert carefully, and once he was certain he'd understood correctly, he dared to ask: "he has _plans_?"

Robert laughed out loud at that - genuine and full-throated. "My dear man, you stood before Inspector Javert and delivered yourself to him, body and soul. Of course he has plans. I'm astonished he's restrained himself for so long. From the sound of it, he's been driven to distraction." 

"Are you quite sure? He's barely spoken to me in days."

"He may not have spoken to you, but he had a great deal to say to me." Robert laughed again. "Shall we raid that study of his? He's most likely got a plan of action tucked away somewhere. It's probably illustrated. Wouldn't you like to see that?"

"He has plans." Valjean's voice was of little help to him at that moment. "And he's spoken to you about them?"

"We had a long conversation this morning," Robert said, and he sounded positively cheerful. "You do know that the world continues to spin while you're praying and gardening? People do all sorts of things. Cosette practices the piano, I study the pottery's finances - we're doing very well this quarter, you'll be glad to know. Plenty of money for the sisters. The king himself couldn't hurt them after the donation I've arranged."

"That's good." 

"It's very good. But while I'm arranging donations and your daughter is perfecting her sonatas and you're trimming the rose bushes, what do you think Inspector Javert is doing?"

"I dread to ask."

"Inspector Javert is making plans. Plans, as I understand them, that will require the involvement of Monsieur Fauchelevent, a nice solid oak desk and his two very dear friends."

The words shocked the breath out of Valjean. He remembered Robert's offer to Javert well enough. The words had rung in his ears for days afterwards, surprising him at unexpected moments with shameful, heated images of himself, spread out and indecently available. That image had been more difficult to pack away than most.

"And what do you think about that?" Valjean asked, his voice as steady as he could make it.

"I was thinking of taking your mouth and letting him have you from behind." A pause. And then, innocently: "If such a thing appeals to you."

He almost wished Robert would not ask. It would be easier not to be asked, for the thing to simply happen without the need for discussions or permission or any words at all. With Robert, there was not always the question - or, rather, the question often came as a touch or a meeting of the eyes. An agreement made quietly and certainly, not to be thrashed out in broad daylight over coffee.

"Perhaps you'd like more detail," Robert's eyes were fixed on him, more calculating than usual. Robert, he thought, did not usually rely on any plans beyond the kind that one or both of them came up with on the spur of the moment. This was curious territory, Valjean thought, but he nodded all the same, throat parched.

Robert seemed half amused, but there was a touch of hesitation in his voice. "When it happens, it will be in Javert's study. He feels powerful there, or maybe more secure. Something like that. One of us is to block the exit - though I'm quite sure you won't want to leave - and the other will pin your arms behind your back." Valjean's breath was coming in harsh rasps - too loud suddenly in the quiet room. Robert continued: "I think Javert would like to be the one to bend you over the desk. He hasn't said as much yet, but I'll have it all out of him soon enough." His eyes had not left Valjean's. "How does this sound to you? Bearable?"

Bearable! Valjean nodded his head, not trusting his voice. He pulled free from Robert's grip and clasped his hands together in his lap. Bearable indeed.

"After that-" Robert waved a hand. "Well, you can imagine the rest, I'm sure."

Valjean certainly could. The images bloomed in his mind, stark and inelegant, with only small details solidifying - Robert's palm on the back of his head; his clothing bunched in Javert's fists; his body exposed with quick brutality He had to remind himself to breathe. 

Robert was watching him, quiet but intent, and Valjean shivered, greedy for more details but unwilling to demand them. The questions bubbled in his throat and died unspoken and all was still well. There was no reason to assume that everything should go the way he wanted.

Robert looked thoughtful. "He worries, you know. About his violent tendencies. Thinks they're too much for you to bear - or perhaps he thinks you don't deserve to have them foisted on you."

Valjean pursed his lips and told himself that this was promising. That it was good for a man to worry about such things. That the worry itself was a sign of improvement. That-

"As it happens, I told him not to worry." Robert's too-quiet voice broke his train of thought. "I told him you can bear his violent tendencies all too well."

It was the most they had ever spoken of such things. Valjean exhaled heavily, dropping his head to examine his joined hands. 

"You've known me a long time, my friend," he said. It was as forthright a confession as he could make. He could not meet Robert's eyes.

"I have. Long enough and well enough to know that he's right to worry." A pause. "Or perhaps it's me who should worry. What does a scoundrel like Javert have to worry about, after all? I'm the one who'll have to watch him have his way with you."

And then it was Valjean's turn to reach for Robert's hand. And, to his shame, he was not surprised to find Robert trembling. Robert! Robert who had felt the strength of him that first day in Montreuil - who had borne his presence at the potter's and, after long weeks of planning and rebuilding, had begrudgingly offered to share a meal and a jug of wine. And Robert who, that night, had felt Valjean's runaway pulse beneath his mouth. And who had insisted upon pausing at each hint of resistance but finally, with lips and teeth at Valjean's bared throat, pressed him face-down into his bed. And now Robert trembled at the thought of Javert's hands on him.

It was too much to bear. Valjean grasped the hand in his own and pressed it to his lips.

"You yourself have done far worse things to me," he pointed out, as gently as he could. The words were a terrible effort. He smiled, hoping the smile would say what he could not, and pressed his face to Robert's hand. _Selfish_ , the word rung in his ears, undeniable now. This was what came of wanting too much.

"I have. Of course I have. But I can trust _myself_. I know how to--" Robert broke off. The hand on Valjean's jaw faltered. "I know you won't let me hurt you. But as for Javert-"

"He will learn," Valjean said firmly. There was firm conviction in his voice that he hoped was convincing. The images were still too vivid in his mind - the need too sharp within for him to be sure how well he could trust himself. Could Javert be trusted? Could he trust himself in Javert's grasp? And was it fair to expect Robert to watch over the proceedings? He shook his head. Could only put his faith in what he believed to be true. "We come from a hard place, Javert and I. He needs to be taught kindness."

"And this is how he should learn? By pinning you down?"

Valjean had no answer to that. He looked up at Robert. "If you prefer, we won't allow it," he said with difficulty. 

It was fair, he thought. He had been prepared to put an end to this thing for Javert's sake, after all. "We'll find other ways." Javert would learn to be happy with Valjean wedged between himself and Robert. He could learn to kiss softly and touch carefully. Robert would make an excellent teacher, and Valjean would still have both of them. It would not be such a loss.

To come so close to something he had not realised he wanted, and then be forced to turn it down. It was a shame, but it was bearable. 

When he raised his eyes, Robert was watching him with a troubled expression.

"You have a curious way of teaching kindness," Robert muttered. 

He reached up to cup the side of Valjean's face, tracing a thumb across Valjean's brow. He worked slowly, pausing to ease the worried lines that too many years of hard treatment had left behind. "Is that what you did to me all those years ago, I wonder. When you turned up in my town and took over my shop, I would have cheerfully turned out out onto the street. But here we are today."

The thumb pressed a little more firmly than necessary, then pulled back, soothing. Valjean's breath hitched.

"I was not a pleasant man in those days. Did you teach me to be kind?"

Valjean lowered his eyes beneath that too-warm touch. How could Robert see so well and miss so clear a truth? "Until I met you, only one man had ever treated me with kindness, and I repaid him in the worst possible way. By the time I reached Montreuil, I was lonely and desperate to redeem myself." The words seemed to vanish in his throat, but he laid a hand over Robert's. "I was fortunate to meet you, my friend."

"Well," Robert said, his voice barely above a breath. "I think that, of the two of us, I got the better end of the bargain." His thumb was dragging downwards. He caressed Valjean's temple before drifting down to tease at the edge of his lip. "Peculiar as your tastes may be."

Valjean tilted his head backwards, and Robert's hand drifted lower - blessedly unasked-for - until it rested, gentle but certain, at the base of his throat. Valjean let out a helpless, grateful sound.

"Robert-" his voice was almost a sob, and he laughed: ashamed and achingly proud all at once. "You are far too good to me. Truly, you are." He wished, with a giddy irrationally, that Robert's grip would tighten. But, of course, it did not. The words spilt out regardless. "You showed me kindness. More than I could dare to ask for."

Robert laughed softly, and his expression seemed fond and pained at once. Valjean could not blame him. And when Robert leaned forward to kiss him, he did not release Valjean from his grip, nor did Valjean pull away.

"So," Robert sighed. "I am a terrible influence after all."

"Perhaps," Valjean admitted.

"I am worried about Javert," Robert admitted. His eyes flickered down to the base of Valjean's throat. He pulled back his palm to study the place where pale indentations of his fingerprints must already, mercifully, be fading. "We'll need to take care with him - make sure he doesn't get carried away."

"Of course. Of course."

Robert's eyes did not leave Valjean's for a long, troubled moment. "I worry about him," he said, once again. "And you too, for that matter."

He rose, eyes fixed on Valjean. 

"I'm worried because I know you'll enjoy the way he thinks." He reached out to clasp Valjean's hand and help him to his feet. "We should talk. All three of us. We can't do this without speaking."

"You're right," Valjean admitted as he found his feet. "They're hard terms, but fair. Javert will approve."

"I should hope so - he's the one who'll benefit the most," Robert said. "I'll see if I can get him to dig out that illustrated plan of his. That should get him talking."


End file.
